


Feeblemind

by chaya



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15087053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaya/pseuds/chaya
Summary: There are some ugly spells out there. Sometimes you just have to do your best to get through it.





	1. Chapter 1

Beau sets her jaw and stands up, gesturing for Caleb to stay seated. His eyes are huge, mouth tightly shut, and he stares at her palm for a moment as if deciphering it before letting his head fall down. After a moment, he lowers further, on to his side and curling up on the forest ground. He almost seems lost to the world.

The rest of the team watches Beau watch this, her shoulders tense and hands curling tightly around her staff. She walks back to them and looks like there’s nothing for her to hit and she’s very mad about it.

“Do you know-” Fjord asks, and Beau cuts him off.

“It’s a spell, and we can’t fix it.” Her teeth are gritted. “Jester might be able to. Or another strong cleric, if we get back to town before her and Nott.” She looks over her shoulder to the unmoving body on the ground. “Fuck. Nott.”

“She’ll lose her shit if she sees him like this,” Molly agrees softly. “What _is_ ‘this’?”

Beau gestures with her staff to the dead elf on the other side of the clearing. “I think she cast it. I mean, Caleb had just fucked their shit up with his spell, so I think she figured out that if she could neutralize him, they might have a shot at beating us, and it -” She gestures impatiently. “I think it’s called Feeblemind. You can’t get over it on your own for a long time, and it just makes you sort of… deaf and dumb? You can’t talk and you can’t understand anyone and you _can’t cast spells_ , which is why, in a fight, if someone’s…” She trails off.

Yasha speaks up. “So he can’t summon Frumpkin?”

Fjord frowns. “How would Frumpkin fix him?”

The larger woman gestures to Caleb. “He’s scared. Frumpkin usually helps him be less scared.”

“That’s true,” Molly agrees, and then groans. “Ugh. This is so upsetting.”

Fjord sighs. “But. It’s just in his head? And when he’s healed, he’ll go back to normal?”

Beau nods. “It fucking sucks, but once it’s fixed, there’s no permanent damage. We just have to babysit him until then. I mean it, guys, I’m pretty sure he can’t even tie his laces right now, we _really_ gotta keep an eye on him.”

**

They start with a lot of attempts at charades, and those are quickly abandoned when it’s clear that Caleb can’t glean anything from them and is getting increasingly anxious at how confused he is. Yasha’s the first one to step into his space, just putting his hands on his shoulders, then her forehead on his. She takes a long, loud, deep breath, holds it, lets it out slow, and after a while, although he doesn’t quite go along with her, Caleb’s hyperventilating stops. She starts again with a breath and takes a step forward, and by the time she lets it out, he’s taken one too, pressing their bodies together in a loose embrace.

**

So they take turns holding his hand. Molly sings as they walk. None of them talk very much, because if there’s nothing to miss, Caleb doesn’t seem so scared about being unable to follow.

One afternoon when Molly steps away to relieve himself, he comes back to find that Fjord has awkwardly taken up the mantle of singer, humming his way through an old sea shanty while Caleb sits nearby with his eyes closed and hands in his lap.

**

When they finally reach town, Caleb doesn’t want to go. He whines quietly and looks back at the treeline with clear desire to go back the way they came, and when Yasha takes him by the hand, he tries to tug her back with a pleading look.

“The buildings aren’t monsters,” Fjord promises soothingly.

“No, he’s looking down at the streets.” Molly scans around. “He’s looking at _people_.”

Beau sighs. “Come on, buddy, you’ll like the temple. It’s quiet and full of books.” She reaches out and lightly rubs her hand over his back. (They all gave up the pretense of normalcy days ago in order to keep him stable.) “Please?” She points. “Ready?”

Fjord starts moving toward the road, then Beau goes, making a group for him to follow. Caleb’s rooted to the spot, even when Yasha finally lets go of his hand and starts to walk away.

Caleb opens his mouth, and it trembles. “Ah,” he gets out, soft and pathetic.

Molly feels something in him twist. “Go check the pub for Jester and Nott, and then the temple for someone, and bring whoever back to us.”

Fjord frowns at him. “The pub’s on the north side, and the temple is-”

“I know it’ll take forever, but let’s not make Yasha carry a screaming human man over her shoulder all through town.” He clears his throat, not having meant to snap quite so much, and forces a smile. “I’ll mind him here.”

**

Molly sits up against a tree a few meters back, and Caleb sits obediently at his feet. For a while Caleb stares out toward the roofs on the other side of the hill, as if he were a dog waiting for his owners’ return. When Molly starts humming, it distracts Caleb enough to turn and finally lay down on his side next to him.

Caleb falls asleep before long. When Jester finally enters the clearing, flanked by Yasha, she kneels down and presses her palm to his cheek just before he can wake up to the sound of her.

“Jester,” he croaks, and Molly feels like he can breathe again.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s a rare spell, and a dirty one at that. They don’t encounter it again for a long time.

** 

“Okay, we can hole up here for the night and worry about the bodies later.”

“Fuck that, I’m going out and looting them now! That lich was wearing a -”

“I can’t heal you though! I’m out of heals, understand? If anything else in this dungeon wakes up, I can’t-”

“I think Molly’s crying.”

Everyone stops at this, and turns to where Yasha’s looking. The tiefling’s swords are missing, and he’s sitting between the wall and the broken crates with his legs drawn up to his chest. It’s silent, but his shoulders are heaving.

“Molly?” Beau says, and there’s a terrifying five seconds of no response at all. “Molly, did that gremlin thing stab you? Jester has a potion-”

“Two!”

“- Jester has two potions left, we can fix you up, man, what’s… you’re freaking us out a little, here.”

Nobody moves. The tiefling doesn’t look up. “MOLLY,” Jester says, louder, but Molly just flinches a little and curls tighter. Finally Caleb puts his spellbook away and gets on his knees, taking moment to set his dignity aside and start crawling over.

From behind him: “Uh, Caleb?”

“Shut up for a second.” He gets just close enough to tap his finger on Molly’s boot. Molly’s head shoots up, red eyes wild and face absolutely  _dripping_  with tears. “Shh,” Caleb says. “Shhh. Hier.” He opens his arms.

Yasha is whispering something behind him. Nott is whispering something back. But Molly’s eyes are locked on Caleb’s, wild and terrified, tracking desperately over Caleb’s arms and mouth and hands and face again, not moving, but not flinching away as Caleb moves in and wraps his arms around the other man’s shoulders.

“Caleb,” Beau whispers.

“Feeblemind,” Caleb murmurs back.

**

Beau starts a fire. After some deliberation, Nott sneaks back out to the corridor to grab Molly’s swords where he dropped them in the fight. She brings them back and shows them to Molly, but he frowns at them like he’s not sure what they are.

Nott sets the swords next to the bed rolls. “Caleb,” she says. “When this happened to you, it was… it was clearly awful, and none of us wanted to push you to tell us what happened, or, or what it was like…”

“I really appreciated that.” Caleb is holding Molly’s hand in both of his, applying gentle pressure. “Honestly, ah, most overwhelmingly I think I was embarrassed, afterward, at how helpless I had been. Being that vulnerable is unlike anything I can think of.”

Nott’s mouth twists a little. “I understand why they ran ahead so I wouldn’t have to see you like that, but I still wish I could’ve… I don’t know. Comforted you.”

“ _Molly_  did,” Caleb murmurs. “For days. I didn’t understand any language at the time, or, or even the simplest gestures, but I do remember what happened. He was very kind to me.”

Understanding flickers across Nott’s face. “So now you’re returning the favor.”

“Even if I did not feel like I owe him, I am still the only one here that knows what he is going through.” Caleb shifts a little on the stone floor. “To know that you know people, but not know their names… just that you are safe with them… to look at new faces and just feel… terror. They could be anyone. You have no idea if you would be able to spot a threat. All you can do is grunt and scream.”

Across the large barricaded room, Fjord says something and Beau snorts in laughter. Molly sits up straight and looks toward the sound, trying to figure out what he missed.

Caleb tracks the motion. “He’s not reacting exactly like me, though, I will admit.”

“He’s not exactly  _like_  you,” Nott remarks. “Maybe that enters into it.” A moment of silence grows between them, and she swallows. “Fjord once mentioned that none of the others would talk around you because it scared you.”

“It was terrifying, not being able to understand.” Caleb catches on and glances to Molly’s face, squeezing his hand to get his attention and smiling gently at him. “Are you bothered by this? When I talk to you?”

Molly smiles back, exuding a desire to connect but also a complete inability. He doesn’t seem distressed.

“You know, I’ve seen people talk to their dogs, to reassure them,” Nott says thoughtfully. It’s loud enough for Jester to overhear, and she stops unpacking the cooking supplies.

“Yes, it doesn’t matter what you say, as long as you smile real big and pat your knees and sound excited.” She turns to Molly, squatting down and giving him a big grin. “You big dummy!” She enthuses. “You are such a big dummy!”

Molly leans forward and seems to be interested in what’s so exciting. Caleb turns and scowls at her.

“I don’t  _mean_  it, I’m just  _showing_ you.” Jester gives Molly a brief, pitying look before squatting down even further. “When I get rested up and get my spells back! I’m gonna make you all better! Yes I am! Yes I am!”

Molly’s smiling widely, now looking to Caleb and Nott to see if they’re happy too. Caleb sighs and rubs Molly’s hand in his.

**

At dinner, Molly sits in between Yasha and Caleb. As Caleb had, Molly struggles with the cutlery, and is visibly relieved when Caleb takes it out of his hands and begins cutting his food for him.

“Mmm,” Molly says, and shifts a little closer to Caleb as he chews.

Yasha waits until the others are in conversation to speak quietly. “I wonder if the reason he was so upset at first…” She trails off, but Caleb is patient, cutting more strips of boar before transferring them to Molly’s plate. “When he came out of the ground, he.”

“Was a lot like this.” Caleb finishes, and nods. “I think if I had felt something like that before, and felt it again, I would break down in tears also.”

“From what you remember… if I can ask… do you think he realizes Jester can fix him tomorrow?”

Caleb sighs. “Not a chance.”

**

Molly spends about half an hour curled up next to Yasha, half in her lap, and the strangest part of it is probably the lack of suggestive smirk or body language to it. The man is just genuinely drawn to the contact, hungry for the reassurance of it, and Yasha endures it for as long as she can before calling Caleb over.

“Can we switch, please.” Her voice is very flat.

“Y-yes?” He looks at Molly a moment, then examines her face a little more. “This has been very hard for you.”

Yasha takes a deep breath, nodding.

“Touching someone  _and_  talking to them.”

“I waited this long because I know you don’t like it either.”

Caleb gives her a brief nod of solidarity and sits down next to her, luring Molly to his side with an offer of his water skin so Yasha can make her escape. “I’ll take him for the night,” he offers. “I really do owe him.”

Yasha nods. “You should do the string thing.”

Caleb lifts his head. “Wha- oh! That’s an… that’s an incredible idea.”

She shrugs. “It’s all I could think about when  _you_  had… this.” She gestures to Molly drinking his fill from the water skin, handing it back without replacing the cap. “We kept worrying you’d wander off and run into a bear or something.”

Caleb is screwing the cap back on as he turns his head away. “I remember… whoever was on watch, would move to sit near my bed roll.”

Yasha is quiet for a long time, letting the silence fill in the space between them. Molly shifts a little, visibly uncomfortable without a tone of voice to clue him in.

“We hated seeing you like that,” Yasha says finally. “It wasn’t about having to take care of you. That was nothing. We just. We hated to see you so scared and not be able to help.”

Caleb doesn’t know how to respond to that, and it doesn’t really matter, because Yasha turns and returns to the group at the campfire. Caleb watches her leave. Molly reaches a hand out to try to catch the edge of her tunic, to keep her from leaving, and Caleb captures the hand in his and squeezes it gently.

“Nein, Molly, it is time with me now. Sorry. I am sure she is your favorite.”

“Nn,” Molly says almost silently, eyes still on her as she sits down and begins talking. Probably updating the others on how he’s doing.

“<Actually, now, I can talk to you in my own language.>” Caleb watches for any kind of reaction from Molly, but he doesn’t seem to detect the difference. Makes sense. “<I still can’t believe you like listening to us talk. It frightened me to my core to hear all that nonsense and not understand what was happening.>”

Molly still seems to be getting over the loss of Yasha’s company. After a few moments, he glances around, noticing Caleb’s attention on him. He quirks his head.

“<Hello,>” he says, voice gentle. “<Everything’s fine.>” Molly seems to like that. When he squeezes Molly’s hand again, Molly lights up, moving closer and leaning against his side. “< _This_  part I understand. This was the only ‘language’ that made any sense to me.>” He lets go of the hand to throw an arm over Molly’s shoulders, rubbing them roughly like a large dog. “<People are resting, people are close to me, everything must be fine and they must be content with me.>”

Molly presses his cheek into Caleb’s shoulder, letting out a content huff. Caleb laughs at how understandable it is, and Molly brightens excitedly at the positive reaction. He lets out another loud breath, this one completely different, but seems very hopeful that Caleb will like it. “<Very good,>” Caleb encourages. “<You’re on your way to becoming a public speaker.>”

Molly goes back to resting his cheek on Caleb’s shoulder, and at this new angle Caleb can feel the faint graze of horns running through his hair. He shivers a little, biting back a scowl at the undesired reaction - Molly feels him do it,  _of course_ , and immediately throws an arm across Caleb’s chest with a questioning grunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments fuel my dark loveless heart.


	3. Chapter 3

“<No, I am not cold, I- let’s set up that spell, hmm? I’ll put the string around our bedrolls, and then we can all sleep a little better tonight.>” He continues in Zemnian as he digs out his and Molly’s bedrolls, looking around for a section of the floor that isn’t partially rubble and isn’t already taken up. “<Ah, the others have all gotten the spots by the door, and no sense fighting to trade for a spot near the fire… the smoke is going to be too much for this little room, someone will be putting it out shortly and replacing it with some candles…>”

Molly follows him curiously, and seems to think they’re looking for an object on the ground. When Caleb nudges some broken furniture away with his foot, he sees that the stone underneath is more or less smooth, and there is probably enough room for two rolls to lay side by side comfortably. “Ach. Molly, hier.” He sets down the rolls and begins sweeping the debris away. To his shock, Molly immediately gets down and helps. “<Look at you!>”

Molly’s beaming, deeply proud of himself, tail swishing under his coat. He’s pushing the wood away but clearly unsure about how much of a space they’re clearing. When Caleb gets up and makes a show of wiping his hands on his trousers, Molly gets up too, and watches silently as Caleb prestidigitates the last of the wood chips away and unrolls their beds.

“<The crates are going to isolate us a little from the others, but I don’t think we were going to socialize very much tonight anyway.>” He sighs. “<I remember… getting stared at a lot? I suppose you treated me like a very drunk friend, guiding me along and not being judgmental about what I was doing. And couldn’t do. You know, if I can make this even a little less traumatizing for you, I think I will have done one decent thing in my life.>” He sits down, pulling out the tiny bell and silver wire, and shuts his eyes to perform the alarm spell.

When he opens them, he can ‘see’ the faint invisible perimeter glowing faintly, and… Molly has pushed the bedrolls and is sprawled out on both of them.

“Hey!” Caleb says.

Fjord pipes up, calling from across the room: “Everything okay over there?”

“Ja, ja, danke, he just doesn’t get the concept of sharing.” Caleb crawls over and gently smacks Molly’s side, nudging him off the rolls and then arranging them back the way they were before. “See, here, for you.” Molly looks at him pointing but doesn’t seem to know to look at the subject and not the finger. “I do not remember having this problem.”

Molly seems to do some mental math before sitting experimentally on one bedroll, then waiting for Caleb’s reaction. “Good,” Caleb says, and nods, before remembering that doesn’t work either - god, this spell is fucking awful. He reaches out and pats Molly’s shoulder instead, smiling at Molly’s resulting happy hum. “<Okay. Bedtime? I think it is time for us to lay down. That was my last spell and I’m fucking exhausted. Today has sucked, hm?>”

Molly watches Caleb get into bed and starts to mimic it, squirming into the roll and tugging a couple blankets up to his waist. “<In the morning, Jester will heal you and you’ll be back to normal.>” Caleb shifts onto his back, glancing over occasionally to check on the other man. Each time, there is a dim red glow of Molly’s eyes on him.

“<Aren’t you tired?>” Caleb asks after the fourth time. “<Rest.>” Caleb reaches out slowly, telegraphing his movements, able to see just enough with his shitty human eyes to lay his palm over Molly’s forehead and then down, lower, to cover his eyes and encourage them to close. The red glow is gone, but only for a few moments, and then it’s back and Molly has reached out and captured the hand Caleb had foolishly left hovering in the space between them.

“<No, it is not hand time right now, dear.>” Caleb swallows thickly and feels his face heat up at the endearment. Literally no one will ever know. He is safe. “<We need to rest.>” He squeezes the hand back, then tugs it away as gently as he can. Molly only seems to put up with this because Caleb immediately, perhaps brilliantly, switched to rubbing up and down Molly’s arm. He can feel the intricate embroidery of the tielfing’s coat under his fingertips, and tries to find the middle ground between what will soothe Molly now and what will not seem too improper of him later. Too impersonal, he’s learned, and Molly will push against his hand and check his face, wondering what’s wrong. Too affectionate, and he gets an awful feeling in his gut like he’s taking advantage of the situation.

“<You are a very beautiful man, Molly.>” As he’d hoped, Molly begins to shift and get comfortable on his side, ready to accept this contact indefinitely. Maybe he can pet and whisper him to sleep. “<Not exactly the kind to cuddle up to a shabby wizard when you have your wits about you. Tomorrow morning you will replay today as you eat your eggs and decide if I am a son-of-a-bitch or not.>”

Something is moving. Caleb squints and looks down at what’s making the sound against the blankets, and it turns out it’s Molly’s tail, swishing lazily in time with Caleb’s hand.

“<Okay. Good. I’m just… I’m going to recite some abjuration tomes until we both fall asleep.>”

**

Rexxentrum was cold and Eodwulf was the only one of the three of them who had any camping experience. This was their third time being sent on a traveling mission alone

( _although Trent was not far, he was never far, and to forget that was to be so bold and so foolish_ )

but the first time they had been instructed to travel in the dead of winter. Eodwulf was showing Astrid how to secure the lean-to and Caleb watched them, strangely far away and distant, as he stoked the campfire and put the pot of snow on to boil.

Eodwulf was asking Astrid something, and Caleb could hear it, but somehow the words didn’t register. Caleb frowned and looked away, uncomfortable without knowing why. He scanned the horizon, looking for signs of game

( _or Trent, Caleb sometimes imagined being so lucky as to spot him watching, Trent would undoubtedly be proud if one of his students managed to catch a glimpse_ )

or danger.

Astrid’s arms came around Caleb and this was very startling. He looked forward and inhaled sharply, and it was not Astrid, it was Eodwulf. The masculine scent filled his nostrils and included something foreign and odd but Caleb could not place it. Eodwulf made a soft humming sound and Caleb did not move, did not want to be caught in a romantic gesture and was not sure why Eodwulf was risking it.

Eodwulf sounded sad now, holding tighter. It was so cold. He and Caleb and Astrid would be huddled together for the night soon enough. Perhaps it did not matter. Perhaps he could have this indulgence.

**

A hand is pushing down at Caleb’s blankets and the a warm body is moving in beside him. Caleb opens his eyes and as Molly wraps his arms back around Caleb, an overwhelming clash of memory and dream and the present causes him to freeze in place.

“Hmm,” Molly hums, contented this time. It is much darker. The candles on the other side of the room have burned down. Molly’s cheek is pressed tightly to Caleb’s bicep, one leg curled around (and incidentally trapping) one of Caleb’s. Something is making the blankets near his knees shift and move and it must be Molly’s tail.

_Molly_ , he tries to say, but no noise comes out. Another memory rises up in his mind, warm and slick and deeply unwanted, of several weeks ago in an inn water closet, Caleb breathless and stroking himself at he thought of the man downstairs who was singing so sweetly. He’d felt shit about it then and he feels worse about it now.

( _this indulgence._ )

“Molly,” he croaks, and Molly makes a low sound that’s something like a consoling grunt. It is so much like Caleb’s utterances when he was under this spell; the guilty warmth that had been pooling in his belly is immediately extinguished and he raises his hands up to try to nudge at the arm flung over his chest.

“Molly,” he says again, and pushes harder at the arm. Molly accommodates by shifting his arm higher up, across Caleb’s collarbones now, and this causes a series of movements and shifts to get comfortable again where Molly’s leg is hiked up further, up over Caleb’s lap now. When Caleb tries to shift a few inches between them it just ends up being  _more movement_ , no ground gained, and there is a low and beautiful and  _hopeful_  sound from Molly’s throat as he tightens himself up against Caleb’s body, his lap flush against Caleb’s side, and he, feels-

No. Absolutely not. Caleb struggles and gets enough leverage to heave the other man off, causing a scuffle of bedclothes and a tinkle of jewelry and an  _impossibly_ bright flash of red eyes to snap open. Molly scrambles to hands and knees and Caleb watches him crawl backwards, the shape of his eyes wide and scared and then something worse: hurt.

“<You can’t do that,>” Caleb whispers softly. The wind is howling outside above the caverns and he knows he’s just barely audible. “<You don’t really want to do that.>”

Molly doesn’t make any sound. His eyes are blinking slowly, then more rapidly, and Caleb panics.

“<Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.>”

Molly is like a dog who has been cast away from its master. He is gathering his limbs up where he is, a good foot away from his own bedclothes, resigning himself to the distance he’s been assigned. The red gleam is strange and obscured around the bottom rim of each eye and Caleb feels absolutely wretched.

“<Here,>” he whispers, and reaches out, knowing Molly can see the gesture much more clearly than he can himself. “<Come back. Come lay down on your bed. Please.>”

Molly watches the hand but doesn’t move toward it. Caleb swallows and sits up completely, using his free hand to get his blankets back in order. Blindly, he reaches out and tries to do the same for Molly’s spot, folding the top back to make it more inviting. “<Here. You go here. Be warm. I’m sorry I pushed you away.>”

No movement.

“<I remember what it’s like.>” He stretches his fingers out further, leans toward him a little. “<It’s like being a child again. You feel everything so much. You don’t understand, and mistakes and rejections are like arrows in your heart.>”

Molly is looking down at the ground, and his silhouette moves slightly in place. Caleb can’t see well enough to know what it means “<I want to stay your friend. I don’t want you to hate me tomorrow. Tomorrow you won’t be so lonely and confused. And you’ll be glad you didn’t rut up against a loser like me.>”

Steeling himself, he pushes Molly’s bedroll closer to him inch by inch, moving his own along as well. Finally, giving in to the inevitable compromise, he squirms and shifts until his bedroll is right up against Molly’s. He can almost reach the man now, and instead opts to reach out with his palm up. “<Hand time?>” 

Molly’s hand hovers over his, unsure, and Caleb takes it. Molly lets himself be pulled forward gently, arranged by gentle touches, until he’s laying down on his side facing away from Caleb. Caleb keeps his grip on his hand, moving just close enough to keep their hands connected with his forearm draped over Molly’s ribs.

“<Two layers of bedclothes between me and you. Please be content with this. Please sleep.>”

Molly’s fingers twine with his, then shift over his knuckles, slowly mapping out the space and going over it again and again. At first Caleb’s worried that it’s going to lead to a new attempt of…  _something_ … but the patterns are repeated over and over, and Molly’s breathing evens out, and by the end Caleb’s not sure which of them falls asleep first.


	4. Chapter 4

Caleb wakes up to the smell of food, which isn’t bad. The camp food they have left isn’t  _great_  food, but it’s hot, and as Caleb takes a deep breath through his nose and lets it out through his mouth, he convinces himself to push the blankets off and go begin the day. 

As he looks at the pile of crates in front of him, he realizes that there’s nobody around… which means that Molly is missing.

(The alarm spell didn’t go off. How long did he sleep?)

Pushing himself to his feet, he jogs around to the cleared space with the campfire, slowing when he sees that further on in a hunched posture is a familiar embroidered coat. At the fire, Jester is waving her hand emphatically to catch his attention, giving him a thumbs up as soon as she’s sure he’s looking. He nods in understanding, then comes over.

“He snuck over and tried to take food back to your spot back there, like a little baby raccoon.” She passes him a bowl. Beau, ever the holder of the cutlery, passes him a fork from the kit bag. “I managed to grab his hand and now he’s back to himself. Well, you know.”

“Ja,” Caleb says flatly, sitting down and continually looking around Jester’s shoulder to look at the back of Molly’s head. “Why is he…?”

Yasha shrugs. “He felt bad for last night. He said he’d like to eat on his own, and promised to be himself by the time we’re ready to go.” A beat. “He told us about keeping you up last night.”

“He feels  _really_  bad,” Fjord interjects.

Nott nods. “He told us to let you sleep as long as possible, because he kept pestering you to stay up with him.”

“He feels  _really super bad_ ,” Jester reiterates.

“I am, I am not mad at him,” Caleb mumbles, holding an empty bowl and no cooked venison because he’s recalling the details of last night and trying not to curl up into some sort of fetal ball.

“Yeah. We figured you wouldn’t be.” Beau leans back against the rubble and shrugs. “Like, of all of us, you’re the one that knows what it’s like to be stuck in toddler mode, you’re not gonna blame him for shit.”

“But we still have to be  _extra super nice_ ,” Jester whispers. “He definitely feels like doody right now.”

Caleb nods, finally using the fork he’s been holding to scoot some meat into his bowl and start eating. There’s a minute or so of comfortable silence with chewing and crackling sticks.

“He was never a toddler,” Yasha says quietly.

Everyone looks up. Fjord flinches.

“Well, no,” Beau agrees, “but it’s still a fitting sort of phrase, right? You’re impulsive and you don’t understand…”

“I just mean.” Yasha looks to Caleb for help. “He doesn’t have any memories of…”

“Doing impulsive things and not understanding anything,” Caleb finishes.

Jester groans, empathetic, and looks over her shoulder at the colorful figure on his own.

**

True to his word, Mollymauk wanders back to the rest of the party when they start dismantling the barricade. He’s smiling and joking as he helps move junk to either side of the doors, and Caleb can instantly see why the others are so concerned about him. There is something scraped-too-thin about his expression, around the eyes, and it makes Caleb’s chest clench in understanding.

**

Nott finally gets to loot the bodies that they had killed the night before. As she picks them clean, Yasha stands to Molly’s right like a silent bodyguard, something else that receives no comment or acknowledgment from anyone. Caleb isn’t sure if Molly has noticed and is pretending it’s not happening, or if he honestly isn’t aware enough to see her. His eyes are locked on Nott, handing weapons to Fjord and finally a greenish pendant in an asymmetrical pentagram shape. He’s seen this before.

“It stores spells, so you can use them later.” Caleb realizes his voice is unusually flat, even for him, but everyone seems to get a free pass today. Jester smiles at him.

“That is very useful!” she chirps. “Do you have to be, um, a creepy demi lich to use it?”

“No, just anyone who casts spells.” Caleb holds the gem in one hand and hides his other hand in his sleeve, using the fabric to scrape off the worst of the grime.

“It’s good,” Molly says, startling several people, and Caleb nods in overenthusiastic agreement. Fjord and Jester are, too, even though they’re about ten feet behind Molly.

“It is,” Fjord conforms.

“Super good,” Beau adds.

_**_

They do eventually find their original quarry - the son of a bitch gnome had holed up in a partially fallen-in kitchen area and bled out. Fjord rummages through the man’s pockets and belongings, finally finding a distinctive looking silver-handled knife to bring back to the Gentleman. They’ve done enough jobs for the man at this point - they don’t need to haul an entire corpse back.

Everyone begins to file out of the partially fallen-in room and back into the dungeon hall. Molly hangs back, looking at Caleb.

“You,” he says, but something seems to steal the rest of the words from him. Caleb waits, is ready to wait as long as Molly needs to say whatever he feels he needs to say, but Molly’s mouth snaps shut and a bitter expression crosses his face right before he turns and follows back to the others.

**

Walking back into sunlight is deeply unpleasant for all of them - there’s not a cloud in the sky, and after a brief exchange Caleb doesn’t quite catch, Yasha loans her cloak to Molly to put over his jacket so he can shade his eyes a little. Caleb has been bringing up the rear up until now, with Nott flanking on the left, and as they spread out a little more now that they aren’t confined to hallways, Caleb gathers his courage and strolls alongside Molly.

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets, working out a little late in the game what he wants to open with, but it doesn’t matter - Molly quickens his pace, faster still until he’s up at the front with Fjord and Beau. He’s asking them something - how long until they’re in town, Caleb is pretty sure - and Caleb is sure it was an excuse to get away from him. As he shrinks back to cover the rear of the group, Yasha shoots him an apologetic glance. A little ways on, Nott moves in from flanking to walk at his side.

“That was really rude of him,” Nott comments quietly.

“He is not at fault,” Caleb says, emphatic but with no heat behind the words. “I was almost silent myself for three days, remember?”

“I remember. It was awful.” Quickly, with nobody to see, Nott reaches up  and takes Caleb’s hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. “I feel like you’re reliving it through him. I don’t want you to go through that.”

“I’m not reliving,” Caleb promises. “I just… feel guilty for not having helped him more, I think.”

“Well, don’t.” Nott looks him in the eyes. “You did your best. He’s going to come out of this fine, just like you did. Don’t beat yourself up over what you can’t do, okay?” She shakes his hand a little when he looks away. “Okay?”

“I promise.”

**

It starts raining ten minutes before they get into town, which is just enough time to be soaked through by the time they get to the hideout. The Gentleman takes the silver-handled dagger and listens to Fjord’s explanation, sighing in resignation at the loss of the chance to personally punish a traitorous employee, and gestures for the Nein to get paid. Jester adds the money to her haversack and, with little discussion, they decide to skip the revelry of the discounted alcohol here to find an inn where exhausted parties can rest or hide in a room.

**

They’re getting keys when Molly reaches down to touch Nott’s shoulder, saying something quietly to her, and Caleb decides that he shouldn’t listen in. He takes the key Fjord hands him and treks up the stairs to the corresponding numbered door, sliding his pack gratefully off his shoulder and onto the table in the corner. He’s rolling his shoulders backwards and forwards when Nott comes in, drops her pack, and gestures to the hallway before skittering back out.

“Can I come in?” Molly’s voice.

“Ja,” Caleb says, and swallows around a suddenly dry throat. “Come on in.”

Molly’d sounded calm, and he strolls in like it were any other day, gently pushing the door shut behind him, but there’s still that tightness around his eyes that Caleb’s never seen until today.

“If you don’t want to be alone with me right now, I understand, and I promise this will be really short.”

That doesn’t make sense. “What?” Caleb says, moving closer. This seems to surprise Molly, who straightens a little.

“I don’t… I haven’t had a lot of time to rehearse this in my head, but I guess it’s pretty simple, isn’t it. I, I acted really poorly, and I did it to you, and so I have to apologize-”

“ _-Mollymauk_ -”

“-no, I do, because no matter how much I was myself or not,  _you deserve an apology.”_  Molly’s voice cracks a little, and he breathes deeply, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at his boots. “The last person I would throw myself at with abandon is  _you_.”

Caleb flinches, feeling a little anger rise up in his stomach. “I know I am not a catch or anything, but you don’t need to be so crass about it.”

Molly’s head snaps up in alarm and he blinks. “Wh- no.  _No_ , Caleb, I-” He uncrosses his arms and moves forward, making an aborted motion to take Caleb’s shoulders. “No, no, no no.”

“Then what?” Caleb’s fighting down the suspicion that something very pleasant got dangled in front of him last night due to nobody’s fault but bad luck, and now the other man is here to make sure Caleb knows just how undesirable he is, just in case there was any confusion on that point. “If that’s what you’re here to tell me, skip it, it’s, how do you say. Old news.”

“No, Caleb, I mean - you’re  _closed_ , darli- you’re very  _closed_ , you don’t want anyone touching you, near you, only Nott and even then not always, I don’t - I love my fun, Caleb, but I’d hate myself if I flirted or pinched someone and made them feel  _bad_ by it. Or even just uncomfortable, and you have always had a…. a  _very large sign_  over your head that indicates you don’t want to be bothered or fucked with.” Molly deflates a little. “I’m trying to say, you’ve got personal boundaries, and last night, I…” He rubs at his face. “I really fucked up and you didn’t deserve to have to… to fight me off and then pet me all better afterward, I feel like the worst kind of ass right now, I really do.”

Caleb winces. “Please don’t.”

“I’m so sorry, Caleb.”

“I remember what it’s like. It’s-” He bites his lip. “Yasha said something this morning, that you were never a child.”

Molly pulls one hand from scrubbing his face to see-saw it.

“So, you do not have much practice at this. It’s different from being drunk, ja? At least we  _choose_  to be drunk. With this, it’s … everything is taken away and we become scared little creatures.” Molly’s not responding, so Caleb pushes forward. “And, and someone  _else_  pointed out… that, you know, no judgment either way, just, you and I are very different. So, when we are sort of mindless, we… it makes sense that we would act different.”

When Caleb tilts his head to see if he can spot anything through Molly’s fingers, he spots one gleaming red eye finally open.

“I am not upset at you, Molly. I do not think you are going to climb into my bed tonight. You are yourself now.” He laughs a little, gesturing down toward the bar below. “You are no longer quite so short on options, hm?” Molly’s face falls a little, and Caleb rushes on: “Not that you would climb into someone  _else’s_  bed unannounced, Molly, you know what I mean, it is,” He gestures between them several times. “You know, the handsome tattooed man in the nice clothes, the scrawny dorky man in shabby clothes, you know,”

“You  _don’t_  know,” Molly mumbles, and takes a deep breath. Caleb shuts up, completely unwilling to say anything if Molly might want to talk. “Listen, I’m. I want to thank you for watching over me yesterday, and, and pulling me out of that panic attack I was in, and for basically being so. Kind.” He throws his hands up. “I’m sorry I wasn’t as easy to deal with as you were.”

“I followed you  _everywhere_ ,” Caleb points out, determined now to remind Molly of his own babysitting duties.

“Yes, and you held my hand and listened to my dirty sea shanties. A perfect walking companion.” Molly smiles and it’s so sweet and so sad and something is missing to Caleb, some piece to this that would make it all fit together better.

“Get some rest, Mollymauk.” Caleb tries to smile back. “I felt significantly less shitty after I slept.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay.” Molly nods and turns on his heel, reopening the door and waving in acknowledgment to Nott as he passes her in the hallway. She watches after him for a while, finally walking and shutting the door behind her.

“He apologized to you, right?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Caleb says, snapping more than he meant to. “I mean. Yes, he did, and he didn’t need to. Please do not give him that one look you do, you know the one.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Nott says primly, climbing onto her bed and stretching her legs out so she covers almost a third of the bed. “And I won’t,” she adds, a little more honestly. “Promise.”


	5. Chapter 5

Caleb would say it was another three days before Molly was completely himself again. The first few meals shared didn’t bring much conversation out of him, and Caleb often caught him staring off into the distance or overthinking a brief response before opening his mouth to say it.

On day three, Molly charms a handsome lady dwarf into reopening their shop for them, and the confidence boost is evident in his eyes as they wander her store and pick out their new winter clothes for the journey ahead.

“Yasha,” he calls across the shop, twirling dramatically in a large cloak. “Aubergine? Yes? No? Too on the nose?”

“It looks fine,” Yasha says, never sure of her advice but always willing to give it to Molly. “Is that fur around the edges going to annoy you?”

“No, it’s going to let me hide mysteriously. Look.” He tucks his chin down, hiding the lower half of his face behind the fluffy trim.

Jester giggles from the hat section. It’s a good moment.

**

As things are relaxed again, Caleb catches himself about to herd Molly into the center of the group as they walk. Catches himself checking Molly’s face too often to make sure he’s calm. Molly was feebleminded for such a short time compared to Caleb, but the evening left an impression in Caleb’s mind. He feels like a sheepdog without a flock.

For a week or so after Caleb recovered, Yasha and Beau and Fjord would all check to ensure someone was helping Caleb get through tough brush or down steep inclines. They never said anything, but Caleb saw their surprised glances when they’d find Caleb unattended, managing fine on his own, and he would say nothing.

**

The storehouse at the end of the village isn’t cursed, as they’d been hired to solve, but it  _is_  a hideout for the local band of bandits that the mayor had claimed to have run out of town. The lanterns that get kicked over in the fight set the rotten straw alight and it’s a lost cause. The team chases the remaining bandits out of the building, cutting them down and spilling their blood in the heavy snow.

Nott and Beau pick the bodies clean, looking hopefully for the weaver’s stolen jewelry, while the others gather up and watch the building burn down.

“Are we going to have to pay for that?” Jester asks quietly.

“There was nothing in it,” Molly points out. “And those support beams were looking pretty decrepit already.” He looks to Caleb. “Feeling alright?”

“Ja,” Caleb says, because he’s seen many things burn now and it, in its own way, is good practice to not panic at a more crucial time. He holds a hand over the light slash across his arm and watches the flames.

“Didn’t the innkeep tell us that the mayor’s little brother was one of these guys? I wouldn’t be surprised if he never ran ‘em out at all, just told ‘em to hide a little better…” Fjord clicks his tongue.

“This whole village is pretty corrupt,” Molly agrees quietly.

The roof falls in, and there’s an impressive rise of flames and smoke as the hay on the ground level catches. Beau whoops behind them just as the wind changes, pushing the smell of rotten burning wood and straw, and under it-

-the bodies, the men they’d killed in there-

When Caleb comes to himself he’s several steps away from where he started, facing away, the smell of burning flesh choking his lungs as if he were standing directly over the corpses. There is pressure on his shoulder. He can’t breathe. He walks further, shins and then knees and then thighs numb as he walks deeper into the snow until the pressure on his shoulder holds him and he can’t go any further.

“Caleb,” someone is saying, but he’s not there, not really. He’s not looking down at the snow, he’s looking up at the flames, at the cart in front of the door, at-

Someone is shouting.

Caleb shuts his eyes and tries to breathe in air. There is none. The smoke is thick and heavy with death. He knows those shouting voices, the begging voices, they are intermittent now, they cannot breathe either-

He is floating.

Clumps of snow fall away from his boots and his trousers. He is facing upwards, to the bare trees of the village. He is floating toward the inn. He shivers, surprising himself.

There are worried voices. They are not choking. They are not dying. Caleb does not mind them.

He is indoors and he thinks it might be the inn, but it is moving quickly, past him, he is going up the stairs and into a room. He is on a bed. He can feel the dampness from his clothes seeping into the blankets underneath him.

Someone is singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for feedback. <3


	6. Chapter 6

The bed doesn’t feel completely real, but there is a voice nearby that is pleasant, singing, occasionally talking, humming, never far. Instead of lost very far away, Caleb feels himself hovering very close to his body, nearly grounded, almost there. The ceiling to the room is cobwebbed and the beams have expanded and warped from the brief summers of…

…of wherever he is.

The voice stops briefly, and Caleb feels a strange panic rise up from his gut to his throat. In his hand he can feel a knot of bed sheets, gripped too tightly, and then the voice is back, and Caleb is sitting up, and something is being pressed to his lips. It’s unpleasant. The rim of a mug? He turns and faces the wall. Soon, he is laying down again.

Someone is humming as they eat. Someone is talking. It is a male voice. It is not his father. His father is dead.

“Caleb,” he hears, and he tries to get back into his body to say something or turn his head toward the voice. It’s a pleasant one, calm and patient, and he would like to respond to it. He feels his mouth twist in frustration.

The voice is closer, and his hand is warm. Someone is holding it. They keep talking, and Caleb wants to be there with this person, wants to listen, wants to ensure this person is not talking alone to no-one. He tries to remember what he would do with Nott to-

-Nott-

-he shuts his eyes tightly and thinks about the prison and the breakout and the circus and… and…

“You’re Molly,” Caleb says, understanding washing over him like the tide. He forces his eyes to focus and there is a brightly colored something next to the bed, next to an empty plate and a full one on a little table. The something is smiling and it is  _someone_ ; it is Mollymauk.

“Usually,” Molly agrees, and squeezes Caleb’s hand. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“Inside,” Caleb says. His body feels leaden and sluggish, as if he’s been running for days.

“Can you be more specific?”

“The inn, the, the Blushing Bride.” He thinks back. “I… floated here?” That can’t be right.

Molly’s glowing red eyes blink a few times. “I called Yasha over to the snowbank you walked into, and had her carry you here.”

Caleb tries to replay the event without letting himself fall into it. “That… makes more sense.” Yasha. The others. “I made some sort of scene, didn’t I.”

“There was nobody around.”

“ _You all_  were around.”

“Yes, and a good thing, or you’d have hypothermia right now, I think.” Molly lets go of his hand, leaning forward a little and pointing to Caleb’s legs. “Speaking of, what do you think of switching to some dry trousers? I dug some out of your pack.”

There is a blanket over his legs and the one underneath them feels damp and tepid. Caleb pushes himself up to sit and begins unlacing his boots, which are… soaked through, and his feet are the painful kind of numb. How did he not notice before?

“I’m an idiot,” Caleb mutters to himself.

“You’re not,” Molly replies calmly, and lays the trousers and socks out next to Caleb on the bed. He then turns around, busying himself with the plates and the mugs. Caleb falters on his laces and watches Molly for a while, realizing that there is nothing to do with the plates or the mugs, and Molly has just… turned. Molly has taken care of him but has not gotten him out of his soaking clothes.

Caleb tries to think of what to say -  _I trust you to undress me while I’m unresponsive -_ how does one phrase that less awkwardly? He kicks his boots to the ground, frustrated with himself, hanging his socks and trousers on the nearby chair and changing into the ones Molly’s provided. “You are very kind to me,” he says.

Molly turns and nods at his dry clothes. “I try.” He strips the soaked blanket off the bed, tossing it in the corner of the room. “Will you eat?”

“We just had breakfast.”

“We had breakfast at breakfast.” Molly tilts his head. “It’s past dinner.”

Caleb looks at the two plates and frowns. Then he glances outside, to the opaque gray sky and… “Have you been singing and minding me since midday?”

Molly’s quiet for a while, and Caleb stares at him, which Molly seems to mistake for a demand for an answer. “Nott gave me a break for a little while, but then she called downstairs and said you were getting worse.”

Caleb’s not sure what ‘worse’ means. Was he doing something or not doing something or…? He just remembers being still.

“Fjord and Beau went back to the mayor and got our pay,” Molly says, pushing on. “The storehouse burned down fine. The foundation is old brick so I don’t think they’ll have a rough time building it again when the spring comes.”

Caleb tries to remember what they were even trying to do. “Did we find the weaver’s…?”

Molly shakes his head. “But I bet that asshole we took out in the storehouse had it. We’re going to check tomorrow when everything’s cooled down and see if we can dig up the bodies. It wouldn’t have been hot enough to melt down silver, right?”

“Right,” Caleb agrees, and feels heavier.

The silence fills the room, and with a start Caleb looks down to see Molly’s hand taking his again. Molly looks like he’s not sure if this is alright, and Caleb finds himself forcing a smile and squeezing tightly.

“Ah, you remember Hand Time.”

“Hand…?” Molly tilts his head, confused (but clearly a little relieved that the gesture was taken well. Caleb must be calming down if he isn’t having to struggle quite so much to read emotions.)

“I, you didn’t understand words at the time,” Caleb says, gesturing with his other hand. “And, also, I was saying it in Zemnian. When you were getting anxious I would tell you it was Hand Time.” He jiggles their joined hands in illustration

Molly breaks out into laughter. Caleb’s smile grows warmer and more easy to wear on his face. “Yasha told me,” Molly says, and then sobers up a little. “After we got out of there, Yasha kind of caught me up. She said you’d been talking to me in Zemnian and that nobody had heard you talk so much in all the time they’d known you. Nott included.”

“I can babble when there’s good reason,” Caleb murmurs into his lap. “I, um. For a while I told you about how to cook traditional dishes, mostly one-pot recipes of stews and roast hare… and then I got a little bolder and told you what I thought of everyone in the group, and later on,” Sensing the opportunity to lighten the mood with a funny anecdote, “I, um, I told you that you would not want to rut on a shabby loser like me!”

Caleb is smiling at the joke, waiting for Molly to smile back, because nothing would make Caleb happier right now than for Molly to look back at that memory and find it to be a comedy of errors, a beautiful fae creature doting on a donkey - but Molly’s face has fallen, deeply hurt, and Caleb kicks himself and tries to dig himself out.

“It was a joke,” Caleb says hurriedly. “That is, I  _did_ say that, because, obviously, but, I meant it for us to, to laugh at, because everything turned out fine… you did not…”

Molly’s voice is so soft. “Did you really say that to me?”

“Yes,” Caleb confirms, because he still isn’t sure how this  _wouldn’t_  assure Molly that everything is as it should be, Caleb did not misread Molly’s temporary interest, and Molly’s dignity is still intact. He racks his brain for what else he blathered about. “I said you didn’t really want to; I knew that, of course, and-”

“Caleb.”

Caleb looks back at the clothes drying on the chair and grimaces. “I just mean, Molly, last week we hauled Fjord out of that bog and had to take  _everything_  off him, remember? And we, you know, we definitely learned that everything they say about half-orcs is true, but we did it because he was paralyzed and that ooze was acidic. Even Jester did not say anything to him afterward. I, I just mean we all trust each other, and, that includes me trusting you, so-” Caleb’s cut off by a knock on the door.

“Nott?” Molly calls, standing up.

“Yes, I heard voices, is he up?”

“Come on in,” Molly says, and he’s barely finished his sentence before Nott has rushed through the door and leaped onto the bed, standing at Caleb’s side and hands over his face, hair, briefly squishing his cheeks.

“You’re awake! I mean, you’re aware! Caleb, can you hear me?”

“I’m here,” Caleb confirms through forced ducky lips, and gently takes Nott’s hands in his to bring them down. “I’m sorry. It sounds like I gave you all a. A very bad scare.”

“It was  _horrible_ ,” Nott whispers, tears welling in her eyes. She looks at their joined hands a moment, biting her lip, before pulling herself free so she can throw her tiny arms around his neck. “I’m  _so sorry_. I’m so, so sorry…”

Caleb shoots a look to Molly, who’s shutting the door, as he hugs her back. “None of that was your fault, Nott. I thought I was okay, and I stayed there, and then I, um.” He swallows. “Then I was not okay.”

“I should have been with you. I should have had my eye on you. Molly didn’t catch up with you until you were a quarter mile away-”

“-it was only a few steps!” Caleb looks to Molly again for backup.

“Closer to a quarter mile than a couple steps,” Molly hedges, and shrugs.

“-and then Yasha had to carry you back and you were crying and you wouldn’t respond, and I knew, I knew I’d totally failed you-”

“Nott.” Caleb pulls back just enough to kiss the crown of her head. “You didn’t fail me. Nobody failed me.” He holds her tightly. “If it weren’t for you, and for the rest of the Nein, I. I’d probably be in a gutter right now. Or still rotting away in that cell.”

Nott sniffs and presses her cheek to Caleb’s before releasing him. She looks across the room. “You didn’t eat your dinner,” she says finally.

“He wouldn’t even drink,” Molly murmurs. “He only ‘woke up’ a couple minutes ago.” He looks out the window at the growing snowdrift. “We’ve just been catching up and talking.”

“Oh.” Nott frowns at Molly, and then at Caleb. “If I go take your wet clothes downstairs and put them up by the hearth to dry, do you promise to eat?”

Caleb smiles. “I do.”

“ _Everything_  on the plate,” she adds.

There is a warm glow in his heart that Caleb can’t quite put to words. “Every crumb.”

Nott seems satisfied, pushing some strands of hair behind Caleb’s ears and fixing his part in a rare moment of motherly grooming. After a moment’s hesitation, she makes sure Molly is still looking out the window as she licks her thumb and swipes it firmly across Caleb’s jawline.

“Zum Teufel, Nott.”

“You had  _dirt_  on you,” the little goblin explains, unapologetic. She hops off the mattress, gathering the socks and trousers up in her arms, nodding to them both before walking out the door and shutting it behind her. Caleb waits until her little footsteps are disappearing down the hall to look down to his lap and smile to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Molly leans against the wall. “I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone like her again, goblin or otherwise.”

“Me either.” Caleb takes a deep breath and tries to encourage his stomach to get excited for whatever he’s about to eat. “Would you mind, um, pushing that little table over here? I feel something between tipsy and exhausted.”

“Far be it from me to get in the way of her orders.” Molly’s voice is mock-serious as he scoots the table up to the side of the bed, where Caleb plants his feet on the floor and picks up the hunk of bread. The root vegetables have gone cold, but that’s his own fault, and he’s certainly eaten worse. Molly sits in one chair and props his feet up on the other, sipping a mug of something while Caleb eats.

After a few moments, something occurs to Caleb. “Did I… how long ago was it that I made you hum while you ate your dinner?”

Molly smiles into his mug. “Forty five minutes or so.”

Caleb snorts. “I am kind of a demanding asshole when I am semi comatose, hm?”

“I like an attentive audience.” He lowers his voice. “I will admit, though, you’re a fairly shitty tipper.”

“I am infamous for being a cheapskate,” Caleb admits, hanging his head a little for dramatic effect. He takes a breath, recalling what he was trying to say before Nott came in. “This is, I know this is a weird thing to say, but it is important to me that you know I trust you to undress me.”

Molly straightens a little, and his mouth works as he tries to figure out how to respond to that.

“I do, I do not mean that in a, I am not trying to be a pervert, I just…” Caleb gesticulates a little with his fork, sighing. “The town I grew up in was one of those Empire-first places where, where everything was about a father in charge and a mother rearing lots of children. if your life didn’t look like that, you were clearly selfish, or broken…” He swallows. “I remember many decent men who were treated as if they were untrustworthy, or leches, because they lived with another man. It was not fair.”

“I understand, Caleb.” Molly’s tone is gentle.

“I am serious.” He turns to look at him, hoping the painful process of eye contact will make this stick. “I don’t want you to think I think that way. And, and more than that, I don’t want you to feel like you aren’t trustworthy.”

Molly dips his head. “Or at least, don’t trust me for some of the many  _valid_  reasons,” he half-jokes.

“Ja, exactly.” Caleb laughs, feeling a little lighter now that he’s gotten that off his chest. He returns to his food, taking a large bite of the hunk of bread and talking around it. “Besides, it would be pretty hypocritical of me, ja?”

“What?”

Caleb gestures that he’s chewing until he swallows, and then continues. “Like when that thief guy at the Gentleman’s hideout said Nott did not look trustworthy. You know, hypocrite.”

“I know the  _word_ , Caleb,” Molly has drawn his legs up off the opposite chair and leaned forward a little. “Do you mean that you… might be someone to eventually share a house with a man?”

“If I could ever find one who did not mind a bony bedmate, who has no money,” Caleb shrugs. He felt this was a given - it was one of the smallest marks Caleb felt he had against his character, and knew that it was only a mark at all in certain circles. This team would hardly be one to care.

But Molly is staring at him, and it’s not in disgust or anger, but some kind of confusion that Caleb doesn’t understand.

“I mean, if I could find a woman who would put up with the same problems, that would also be perfectly fine,” he adds. In case the idea of Caleb only preferring men was the point of confusion. “I suppose I haven’t given it a lot of thought in many years, as I am neither in a place to settle down nor in a, um,” He fumbles, gesturing to his appearance and then fiddling with the strands of hair Nott tucked back.

“Okay,” Molly is saying under his breath, and leans back in the chair.

“But you don’t care,” Caleb says hesitantly, trying to confirm. “You  _can’t_. I’ve - I’ve seen you hit on dwarf women. Gnome men. Everyone. Almost everyone.”

“Yes, I’m very-” Molly waves his hand around in a circle. “Everything, yes, no, I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if I wanted to be that type of asshole…”

Caleb breathes and nods, returning to his vegetables.

“I’m going to head downstairs and let everyone know that you’re feeling better,” Molly says after a few moments. “Is that alright? You’d tell me if you didn’t want to be alone?”

“I am feeling much better,” Caleb confirms. “If I get lonely, I can send a message to Nott, or stumble down their on my own legs.” He cuts the small cut of fish in half. “Whoever bought this for me, please thank them, I will pay them back.”

Molly nods and goes to the door, pausing strangely for a moment before leaving.

**

Ten minutes later, Caleb decides he should make an appearance downstairs to apologize for the trouble and show everyone (especially Nott) that he’s doing well. He searches for his boots before realizing Nott must have taken those too, and walks in socked feet down the hall and stairs to the pub area. Most locals are huddled around the large hearth. The Nein, whose new winter gear was bought with climbing mountains in mind, is comfortably seated at a corner table near the windows. Outside, the snow is coming down at an angle and is filling the corners of the window panes.

“Caleb,” Jester calls, waving excitedly as he descends the stairs. The others look up too, and Caleb gives an awkward smile back. Something, though, blooms warm in his chest at the site of them all looking relieved to see him.

Nott scoots closer to Fjord and pushes her bag aside, making room for Caleb to sit. He nods gratefully, eyes locking on the oversized cap she’s wearing.

“Nott, what is…?”

“Jester’s making me wear it,” Nott says, only a little petulant. “She found it on a bandit and she says I should keep it.”

“It  _didn’t burn_ ,” Jester says emphatically. “And I  _remember_ , there were three guys in there, do you remember, Fjord? The boss guy with the big crossbow and the black hair, and then the really cute half elf with the long brown hair in the little braids, and then the dwarf with all the stuff in his beard?”

Fjord sighs and turns to Caleb. “Jester heard the snow was gonna get worse, so she  _ran out_  in it and dug up those three guys… says the half elf didn’t look anything like before, and he was wearing that.”

Beau shrugs. “I still say burning up after getting stabbed to death will make you look different,” she says. Suddenly, she straightens, leaning in a little to Caleb. “Is it cool if we talk about the fire? We could-”

Caleb gestures very quickly that it’s fine, and to move on.

“He  _wasn’t cute_ ,” Jester says. “His face was messed up from getting smashed with roof, so who knows, but his hair was very greasy and there were no braids. The  _hat_  made him cute.”

 _It didn’t burn_ , Caleb thinks. Magical? “You think it creates disguises?”

Jester nods, looking relieved that someone else is finally making sense. “One of my mom’s customers had one! He’d wear it and come in and look like a boring dwarf, and then he’d take it off, and then… well, he looked like a boring gnome. But! If a greasy half elf can look like a pretty half elf, and that boring dwarf can look like a boring gnome, then,” she gestures to Nott. “She should be able to look like a gnome, or a halfling, or somebody else who is small.”

“Oh,” Caleb says, and then looks down to Nott. “So you are attuning.”

“Yes.” Nott takes a pull from her flask. “Did you eat?”

“Every bit,” Caleb promises. “Jester, did you find the weaver’s jewelry when you went out again?”

Jester smiles brightly, rummaging around in her haversack and pulling out a handful of tarnished silver jewelry. It doesn’t look like much, but nothing does around here.

“We can go give it to her once the snow clears, and then get the hell outta here,” Fjord rumbles. “Unless there’s something else we gotta do.”

“Wait for the inevitable mob to grab torches and run the mayor out of town?” Molly suggests, lifting his eyebrows at Beau. (Caleb has observed that they still don’t care for each other, but are willing to bond over uprisings.)

“Unless it was a murderer or a wife-beater, it’s pretty common to wait until Spring if you live somewhere this isolated.” Yasha sounds matter-of-fact.

Molly pouts. “I don’t plan on waiting  _that_ long for a free show.”

Caleb smiles slightly at the joke, happy to see that Molly’s feeling himself again. Nott catches Caleb’s smile, patting his hand discreetly under the table before returning to her drink.

**

The storm has brought several unexpected groups of people to the inn to wait out the cold, and the proprietor more or less informs Fjord that his booking of three rooms has been reduced to one, and could they start consolidating their belongings to that one room, please. Fjord accepts his two-thirds refund with an awkward nod and tells the others, roping Beau into moving all their stuff into the room with the already-mussed bed.

“I’ll help,” Jester announces, getting up and drinking down the rest of her ale in one long gulp. She plunks it back down to the table with more force than one would expect from a girl that size, skipping up the stairs.

“Caleb, I should get your things from the hearth before someone takes them.”

“Nobody would want to steal my socks, Nott.”

“Well, they’re certainly dry by now, so I might as well.” She pats his leg and gives him an unusually warm smile, hopping off her chair and squeezing through the groups of locals.

“This place was pretty dead when we came in the other day.” Caleb looks around at the people hugging their beverages to their chest while they scoot sideways down the aisles. “Now look at it.”

“Horrible weather can be good for business,” Molly agrees. “Yasha, didn’t you say some of these guys were from the next town?”

She nods. “They were trying to get onto fishing boats and move south before the weather hit.”

“Bad luck.” Caleb shrugs. “It could be worse. This inn is okay.”

“I liked the root vegetables,” Yasha supplies.

“Me too! I-” Caleb stops as Yasha’s expression changes, first to mild surprise and then concentration. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” she says, curtly. “Storm stuff.”

Molly quirks an eyebrow as he leans back with his glass of wine. “Yasha, is the storm talking to you now? Is it… telling you to do things?”

Yasha rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her ale. “It is telling me,” she says, with the long pause Caleb has learned to recognize is the beginning of an attempt at a joke, “about how annoying Tieflings can be.”

Molly grins with all his teeth. “I had no idea storms were so observant.”

Caleb gets the urge to ask if the storm tells her not to trust certain people, or tells her that her food is poisoned, but those are the kinds of gallows humor jokes that probably only make sense if you have lived in an asylum. Instead, he just smiles.

Yasha looks over at Caleb. “We never got you a drink,” she realizes.

“You did not know I was coming down,” Caleb says with a shrug.

“I’ll go order you one.”

“You don’t have to.”

“It’ll be much faster for me,” Yasha points out. As she rises from her seat to her full height and moves through the parting seas of startled fisherman, Caleb has to agree that yes, she does have a somewhat more commanding presence than he does.

“I do love that woman,” Molly remarks quietly. Then, noticing Caleb’s confused look: “As you love Nott.”

“Ah.” Caleb nods. That makes much more sense. Molly looks ready to say something else, but he doesn’t, and a nice quiet falls over the corner of the pub. On the other side of the room, Caleb spots a small figure holding human-sized boots and trousers scooting between legs and under tables. “She is very sweet to me. I don’t deserve her.”

“You do, actually.” Molly is very casual about it, taking another sip of wine, looking over at the bar where the proprietor is craning her neck up and nodding at whatever Yasha is saying.

“Who do I owe for the dinner?” Caleb asks after a while.

“Nott bought everyone’s meals with what she dug out of the outside bandit’s pockets.” Molly seems to remember something. “She’s being a little ridiculous about me noticing you wander and Yasha carrying you, so if you can calm her down about that, please. I’ve chased down worse and we both know you’re hardly a sack of flour to Yasha.”

Caleb looks back to the bar, where Yasha is putting down some money and grabbing a tankard on her way back. A man with a large fluffy beard presses himself to the wall to give her room, looking at her with a mixture of fear and adoration.

“We are all but sacks of flour to that woman.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Agreed,” Molly says, and stops short a moment, looking over to Caleb. “Actually, has Nott seemed odd to you this evening? Since you came downstairs, I mean?”

Caleb thinks back. “More smiley than usual,” he recalls. “Probably happy that I am no longer a sad vacant lump.”

“I hope that’s it,” Molly mutters, and Caleb doesn’t have time to ask for clarification because Yasha’s back and gently setting down his mug in front of him.

“Danke,” Caleb says, nodding his head and taking a grateful sip. Weak ale like this is perfect for winding down and calming your nerves before bed.

“No problem.” Yasha doesn’t move to sit back down, and with the mug to his mouth Caleb can only  _just_  spot Molly’s eyes narrow at her. “I think… I’m ready to head to bed.”

“ _Are_ you,” Molly says, weirdly chipper, a strange tightness in his voice. Yasha looks at him a moment with a blank expression, but instead of a response she just turns and walks to the staircase.

Caleb frowns after her. “I forgot to ask how much this was.” He makes a mental note to set some copper aside and give it to her later. Molly’s tail is lashing a little under the table, and Caleb takes one hand from his mug to put on Molly’s to soothe him before realizing that Molly’s… himself.

There is an awkward silence as Molly notices Caleb’s hand hovering over his. Caleb flushes a little and turns his face away, crossing his arm across his chest instead and taking a longer drink of his ale. It’s slightly spiced. Is that a local thing?

“I still do that,” Molly says suddenly, pulling his hand away and gesturing to where Caleb’s had moved. “It’s silly, right?”

“Ja, it is.” Caleb laughs self-deprecatingly.

“It’s like, once that wall is down and it’s okay to be near someone, or you’re  _supposed_  to touch them… it’s…”

“Hard to turn it off.”

“Yeah.”

Caleb wants to continue the conversation, but Molly’s agitated and strange somehow and he doesn’t know what set it off or how to fix it. Maybe he’s tired from all the babysitting today. “Thank you or taking care of me, today.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“I owe you.”

“You  _don’t_ ,” Molly says, just this side of too sharply, and Caleb straightens and Molly does too, as if the bite behind his words got him as well, and he makes a pained face and turns away. “Sorry. I’m gonna go join the pile upstairs.”

“Sure, yes.” Caleb looks down at his mug. “I’ll, um. I’ll see you up there soon.”

**

The next morning, Nott sleeps in with him while the others go to talk with the mayor and drop off the jewelry. Nott entertains Caleb with her new hat, turning into a small version of Pumat Sol and doing a very admirable impression of him.

“Maybe not a firbolg for outside, though.” Caleb gestures outside the room.

“No, no, I’ll go back to…” Nott fiddles with the brim of her cap and, per their experimentation, changes the hat itself to look like a ribbon in her new young gnome child’s appearance. “That?”

“Perfect,” Caleb says, and directs her to the grimy mirror in the corner. “You look like you’re ready to demand a trip to the sweet shop.”

“That’d be Jester,” Nott says, and smiles over at him just as familiar boots tromp up the stairs. Fjord knocks before poking his head in, making sure they’re awake and decent.

“We’re all set,” Fjord reports. “Feeling rested? Think you’re up to climbing some more of this shithole mountain?”

“I am definitely ready for some more shithole mountain,” Caleb confirms, getting to his feet. He’s tried to tell them he doesn’t need quite so much coddling, but very slowly, he’s learning to roll with it and accept it for what it’s meant to be. “Are we heading out now?”

“Yeah, we’ve got the kit ready, just need you two.” Fjord watches Nott for a few seconds while she shoulders her pack. “Man, that’s a damn fine hat.”

Jester’s voice pipes up from further down the hallway: “I  _tolllld_  you.”

**

The trail isn’t well marked, but it’s not steep, and that’s enough to keep everyone’ spirits more or less high. When they stop for a ten minute break, Caleb jokes that he’s going to stare into nothingness and walk in a random direction if nobody minds, and Beau snorts loud enough to scare some nearby birds out of their tree.

“I’ll put a leash on you,” Nott says, half-chiding and half-joking. and Caleb grins down at her.

“I think I would just drag you along.”

“I’ll tie you to a tree.”

“I’d chew through the lead.”

“I’d notice you chewing before you’d get away.”

“Point.” Caleb nods. “You win this one, little gnome girl.”

**

They’re camping in a very shallow cave in the mountain side when Molly sidles up to him, sitting down.

“Not enough chair rocks to go around,” the other man murmurs. “Do you mind?”

“No! I don’t, go ahead,” Caleb says, and is surprised to find he means it. “The ground is freezing up here.”

Molly nods. He seems more like himself than the last time they really talked, back at the pub, and Caleb’s glad that whatever was bothering Molly has apparently passed. “Gonna be nice and freezing when we finally bed down.”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “Something to look forward to.”

“I run hot, you know.”

Caleb blinks, feeling the connection line more distinctly where his shoulder and bicep are touching Molly’s. “Sorry?”

“A lot of tieflings do. We’re just… warmer.” Molly looks over to where Beau is fighting with the hare to get on the spit, and he gets to his feet to go help her. “Just something to think about when you’re laying out your bedroll.”

Caleb blinks several times, watching him go. When he looks for Nott, ever his centering point, he finds that her hands are stopped over the trap she’s making at the mouth of the cave and is already watching him. She smiles brightly, very wide, and goes back to her trap.


End file.
